


learning unlearning

by copperiisulfate



Category: K (Anime)
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Valentine's Day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-18
Updated: 2014-02-18
Packaged: 2018-01-12 22:55:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 831
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1203556
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/copperiisulfate/pseuds/copperiisulfate
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>“These are? For me?” </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>Fushimi does not want to know why he is speaking in two word sentences and ending them with question marks. “No, they’re for that other guy I’m sleeping with. I just thought I’d knock on your door and show them to you for the hell of it.”</i>
</p>
<p>Or: Fushimi buys flowers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	learning unlearning

**Author's Note:**

> this ship though

"No," says Hidaka, eyes wide. "No. No. This isn’t real life. I’m dreaming." He starts pinching himself, and Fushimi sighs, starts veering close to the point of hitting him on the head with the bouquet of roses he’s got in his hands. 

On the bright side, this is marginally less embarrassing than he had envisioned. What he had envisioned was something like Hidaka cooing and telling him how deep down inside he was actually a huge sappy romantic or something (which he isn’t, of course). Either way, the story would have ended with Hidaka being thrashed around by a bouquet of roses, Fushimi supposes.

This is just. Embarrassing in different ways—

—mostly because Hidaka still looks like a deer in headlights. “These are? For me?” 

Fushimi does not want to know why he is speaking in two word sentences and ending them with question marks. “No, they’re for that other guy I’m sleeping with. I just thought I’d knock on your door and show them to you for the hell of it.”

"Uh…"

" _Yes_ , dumbass! They’re for you!"

"Okay good, because I was starting to wonder if there really was someone el—"

And yes, okay, getting  _really close to the thrashing._

Fushimi grits his teeth, says, “Clearly this was a mistake. Look, I’ve never done—”

Hidaka just beams. “No, no! I just—wow. And it’s okay, I haven’t either! Had a proper Valentine’s day, I mean. There was this one girl in high school but we broke up before the dance and—never mind, sorry. You’re giving me that look again. Anyway, come inside?”

Fushimi grumbles something under his breath but steps in past the threshold. “Where’s the room-mate?”

"Who even knows," Hidaka says, putting the flowers in a tall glass tumbler until he can scrounge up a vase.

"When’s he back?"

"Not before the morning. He’s got tomorrow off."

"Good," Fushimi says, coming around him, starting to work on the buttons of Hidaka’s shirt.

"Wait," Hidaka nearly yelps. "I dressed up! I was going to ask you about dinner!" He’s not making much effort to push Fushimi away though and nearly yelps again when Fushimi’s mouth finds his neck. He laughs then, a soft sound, curls a hand in Fushimi’s hair, says, "You know you didn’t need to get me flowers for this."

"Maybe I just wanted to?" Fushimi says.

"You know this is like a historical event, right?" Hidaka tugs him towards the bed, pulls Fushimi’s t-shirt over his head, throwing his glasses askew across his face and forehead, and tries very, very hard to not laugh even harder.

"Shut up," Fushimi rolls his eyes, puts the glasses on the bedside table and straddles him. "Keep it up and next year it  _will_  be someone else.”

"Ooh, a threat! I wonder—" and Fushimi grinds down against him in an instant, rendering the remainder of that sentence dead in Hidaka’s throat. What comes out is a gasp. "Okay! Point made!" Another jerk of Fushimi’s hips, yielding another sound, louder this time. 

Fushimi smirks. “Less talking,” leans down to kiss him, messy, mouth to neck to sternum, unbuckling and unbuttoning and unzipping Hidaka’s pants, mentally groaning a little but also quietly amused because he really had dressed up. Well, they’d go and grab ramen later. Fushimi had had more than enough of stiff fine dining growing up and it had never been his thing. 

Hidaka half-whines at the loss of contact when Fushimi’s mouth leaves his skin, only to hiss when it’s on him again, warm and wet around him, much, much lower this time. 

Fushimi takes pride in the arc of Hidaka’s spine, the sounds leaving his mouth, louder, almost rhythmic as Hidaka grows closer and closer, smiles at the fingers that are damn well clenching at his hair; every time he hears something of an intermittent apology, Fushimi digs his own fingers into Hidaka’s hips, as if to say,  _stop it; this is for you, all for you._

He’s never taken seriously the kinds of things he’s seen most couples do, had always felt the people who used them were giant show-offs and pretentious as fuck. He’d always felt that when you loved someone you shouldn’t have needed shit like flowers and candy and empty declarations to show it, felt that he’d always known better than that.

But then, there’s the look on Hidaka’s face when Fushimi showed up at his door and there’s Hidaka’s laughter ringing in his ears and there’s Hidaka now, gasping  _how much he loves him, how much he wants him_ , and it’s warm, warm, impossibly warm in Fushimi’s chest and Fushimi doesn’t really know anything at all.

Hidaka comes with a cry and Fushimi kisses a spot on his thigh before sprawling beside him.

"What about you?" Hidaka says, breathless, hand resting on Fushimi’s hip. "Let me do something for you."

Fushimi doesn’t know how to properly say:  _you’ve done so much._  

What he settles for is: “Buy me dinner. I know a place.”

 

 


End file.
